With his lower half exposed he bent forward until his fingers touched his toes. ‘Please don’t hurt me,’ he pleaded.
It was too late for mercy. Malcolm Fraser, Australia’s future Prime Minister picked up his cane and with a dextrous swish, swish, swish struck three cutting lashes across the Hansen buttocks. Zorro could not have slashed it any better as my brother’s buttocks burst into a row of red stripes. Malcolm after admiring his preliminary work repeated the dose with cold, impersonal efficiency. Once… twice… thrice and the flagellation was over. The time honoured ‘Six of the best’ had been applied with vigour and an absence of malice. But plenty of Mal…
‘